You guys shouldn't have met each other
by Silver Maze
Summary: Sherlock and John. Sheldon and Leonard. Two famous duos met each other! What do you think would happen? Only trouble, I say. Cracky fic.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: It's a shame that I own neither Big Bang Theory nor BBC Sherlock.

**You guys shouldn't have met each other **

Big Bang Theory x BBC Sherlock

If there really were such thing as karma, Leonard Hofstader thought as he patiently closed his eyes, he must have a bloody first class seat reserved for him in heaven.

"Leonard, Leonard, Leonard."

Maybe he would get to sit right next to Jesus. Nobody could deny that he had a patience that would make any religious saints weep in defeat. Surely, no other saints had been tested as severely as him, with a personal torturing machine stuck to their sides.

"Leonard-"

Wouldn't strangling him be a sure fire way to stop this frustration?

"Leonard-"

Before strangling him, though, there was another work that should take precedence; going back to past and throttling the guy who invented airplanes. Just what kind of a sick sadist thought of a metal box that flies above 2600 feet, leaving people, who wanted to escape torture, only able to choose death?

"Leo-"

No, that's not right. Sheldon is the only bastard here.

"Why, Sheldon?" Leonard forced himself to speak calmly as he gritted his teeth. Huge eyes on a pale face stared at him blankly, and then rolled around in agitated fashion.

"-nard."

Leonard banged his head on the seat-head. Three hours and ten minutes. He had to wait more than three hours before he could get out of this airplane. How did this happen? Well, there was a short explanation for this.

Leonard was an idiot.

As concise and brilliant as this explanation was, it might confuse those who were not so familiar with our dear Sheldon.

So, the details of the event were like this; someone gave Sheldon two plane tickets for a conference in London. Surprising really, considering the fact that Sheldon had a corpuscle amount of social grace, but some crazy guy did just that. And that conference day just happened to be coinciding with the day on which Doctor Who Convention would be held in London. Penny also said that she would go camping with her friends on that day.

So poor Leonard predicted that he would be all bored and lonely that day and agreed to Sheldon asking(throwing tantrum at) him to go with him like the idiot he was. On retrospect, it was a mad thing to do. Why in the world did he decide to voluntarily crawl into this hellhole in which he would have to endure the torment of sitting next to Sheldon for hours with no escape?

And now Sheldon was babbling nonsense while poking Leonard on his side.

It was a shame that there wasn't an easily accessible gun on an airplane.

If there really were such thing as karma, John Watson thought as he patiently closed his eyes, he must have a bloody first class seat set out for him in heaven.

"Oh, Sherlock. Just stop it."

His genius flatmate was once again curled into a small ball on the sofa, only wearing his usual gown. At this state, it wouldn't surprise John even if Sherlock were to transform into blue fungi, merging together with his beloved sofa. Really, being all brooding like that just because he had no case for over 100 hours? Childish, that was what it was.

"Sherlock, are your really going to keep doing this?"

Thoroughly annoyed now, John threw down the papers he was reading on the table. The thing that had been facing the sofa wall wiggled a bit in response, and turned toward John. It then groggily woke up, only to walk to somewhere else like a ghost. John thought for a moment. What was in there?

The answer was simple. In a blink of an eye, a black object was held in Sherlock's hand. Goddamn it, how in the world did he figure out that the gun was hidden in a cereal box?

"Sherlock, don't-!"

_Bang, bang, bang!_

"Boring!"

"Oh, that's it." John muttered under his breath and stomped toward Sherlock. He sharply jerked the gun out of his flatmate's hand and glared at the guy who was more than a head taller than him. Really, with Sherlock, John was getting more and more tempted to go back to his 'bad days'.

"Get your clothes. We are going out."

It was a shame that there was an easily accessible gun in this flat.

* * *

><p>"John, seriously?"<p>

Sherlock said in an incredulous tone as he stared at the blue phone box in front of him. He raised his hands as if to stop this nonsense, and read the words on the banner in an overly slow and articulated manner. It was clear that he was mocking.

"'Doctor Who Convention'? Just what could have possibly made you to think that I'm going to enjoy it?"

"I didn't think that you would. But I would."

John crossed his arms to further drive his point.

"I don't want to see you moping around the house anymore. And I've always wanted to go to the Doctor Who Convention for once in my life. Since you needed to get some air, too, what's the reason not to come here? It's a win-win situation."

"A win-win situation? What would I get from coming to this place? I can always get some air in the park. That's what parks are for."

"And what would have happened if we had done just that? You would have complained nonstop that Mycroft's underlings couldn't even hide their presence properly. Again. Just like the last time. Now, in here, since it is pretty crowded, Mycroft's man wouldn't be able to follow you too closely."

John's stance painted the very picture of stubbornness. His navy-blue eyes were blazing oddly, and Sherlock had seen him like this only once before. It was when the detective starved himself for four days and was swaying dangerously. John had literally shoved pieces of bread down his throat that day. At that terrible and mortifying memory, Sherlock wisely decided to shut his mouth.

After that, things went smoothly, unexpectedly so. There was no cry of boredom from Sherlock, and no criminals were threatening them. John could enjoy the convention just like ordinary people mingling around them. John wandered around the building, and was feeling a bit nostalgic as he thought of his childhood with the Doctor. On the other hand, Sherlock, who was walking beside him, showed no interest. He was only absolved in playing with his smart phone. Since John never expected his flatmate to be interested in that 'useless TV show', he didn't even try to sway Sherlock's mind.

Oddly enough, it was Daleks that caught Sherlock's attention. 'Why did they put those giant pepper shakers in here?' was Sherlock's exact question, but still. John explained that they were Doctor's archenemy, and Sherlock nodded his head as if he understood something. John decided to pretend not to hear Sherlock muttering 'hmm, an archenemy, it certainly is shaped like Mycroft'.

They came to the corridor in which the past Doctor's pictures were hung on the wall, and John was oddly reminded of Sherlock when he saw the 11th Doctor.

That was when he heard this; "So, we meet again, Sherlock Holmes."

It was something that villains from B movies would say. Honestly, was it too much to ask for a one, peaceful day? Feeling his shoulders stiffening with tension, John slowly turned around.

* * *

><p>AN: Yay, my first crossover fic! Well, I just love both Big Bang Theory &amp; BBC Sherlock, and decided to show my love in this way. Hope you guys liked it!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Big Bang Theory and BBC Sherlock aren't mine, unfortunately.

**You guys shouldn't have met each other**

He's just like a kid on sugar-high, ecstatic to be in the toy store, Leonard thought as he watched his roommate. Sure, Leonard was also excited to be in Doctor Who Convention. He had already acknowledged himself as a geekish nerd long time ago. However, he also did possess such thing as 'self-restraint'. Sheldon was oohing and awwing as he hovered over various Doctor Who related stuff, with a cotton candy that came out of nowhere on one hand. It made Leonard regret comparing Sheldon with a kid on sugar-high before; even a five-year old child would have been more mature than him.

Having decided that it would be for his best interest if he didn't look like he was accompanying Sheldon, Leonard stopped in front of the past Doctor's pictures and stared at them as if he had never seen them before. However, there came the force that ruined his plan.

"Leonard-!"

Sheldon.

That bastard.

Sheldon scuttled right next to Leonard and whispered to him as if he were some guy from a spy movie. Now, as that lanky kid folded himself and hid behind him in an awkward way, Leonard could feel the glares that had been aimed at Sheldon changing their directions and targeting him. He looked at his roommate in exasperation.

"What is it now?"

"Sherlock Holmes."

"…What?"

Leonard blinked, wondering if that was some kind of a new code. Maybe it was the name of the main character in some new TV show. It was a bit weird to be a real person's name.

"He is the man on my archenemy list; he's in the second place, right down to Will Wheaton."

…It was a real person's name. Leonard was surprised at the fact that a man that actually had the name of 'Sherlock Holmes' existed, but not at the fact that he was on Sheldon's archenemy list. Now, if Sheldon had said that Sherlock Holmes was his friend, Leonard would have been totally freaked out. Maybe even doubt whether he was in the Matrix World.

"Who is he?"

"There, that tall guy with black hair."

"Yeah, I surely would know who he is with just that description."

"Of course you would."

"Sheldon, sarcasm."

"Oh, darn it. I had been doing so well this few days," - Leonard snorted as Sheldon looked genuinely upset at this- "Anyway, Sherlock Holmes is that man with a black coat and a blue scarf. He is standing next to the blond guy wearing leather jumper."

Leonard looked around and found the target. That Sherlock Holmes guy oddly resembled 11th Doctor.

"I should go and confront him."

It was even before Leonard could make a comment about that man's appearance. Sheldon had grasped Leonard's arm tightly and was dragging him toward the duo in no time. Leonard fidgeted as the pale face of the man came too close for his comfort.

"So, we meet again, Sherlock Holmes."

It was something that villains from B movies would say. Leonard slapped himself on the forehead with the hand that Sheldon hadn't grasped. In close, Holmes seemed even taller than before. He was taller than Sheldon, so compared to Leonard…. Yeah, that guy was tall. Topping that with his weird colored eyes, skeletal thinness, and black clothes, one could almost mistake him for a ripper or something. Leonard wished with all his might that he wouldn't get to lose his pants this far away from his homeland.

* * *

><p>#<p>

…Why isn't anything happening?

Leonard put his hand down and slowly raised his head; Sheldon's 'archenemy' was just mindlessly focused on his smart phone. Only his smaller – yet still taller than Leonard – companion was staring at them with an uncomfortable expression.

"Sherlock, do you know them?"

Emotionless eyes glanced toward them without care, and then slid back to their original position.

"No."

Leonard observed with interest as Sheldon's face turned into a quite colorful shade. It was almost artistic, the way it contrasted so drastically with Holmes' calm and white face.

"…Wha, what?"

Wow, Sheldon at a loss of words, Leonard was impressed. He would have felt more sympathetic if he hadn't spent so much time with Sheldon. Not all were indifferent in Shelodon's state, though. It looked like Sheldon's gobsmacked and offended face managed to move the heart of the blonde guy; he was elbowing Holmes' waist.

"Sherlock, are you sure you don't know him? It seems like he really wants… to say something to you."

"Oh, John. You know that there would be no space left in my brain if I were to remember all the people who were or are against me."

With a look oddly familiar to Leonard that said yeah-good-job-you-dork, the guy named John opened his mouth to smooth down the situation.

"Sorry, I think there must have been some mistake. It sounds like you guys are from America, and Sherlock had never been there-"

"Actually, I'd been to America, once." Now, does that conversation style, that doesn't know when to shut up, resemble someone else's he knew or what, Leonard asked himself. John seemed to find Holmes response absurd, too. Really, why couldn't some people just close their mouth and wait for their friends to lie for them, instead of blowing their own cover by telling the truth?

"What? Why?"

"I owed something to Mycroft. I have no idea why he keep trying to shrug off his work on me, FBI job was his hobby, anyway."

The scale of this conversation just went way over Leonard's head, making him almost dizzy, but Sheldon seemed completely unfazed by it.

"I clearly remember what happened in September 11th, 2009," Sheldon raised his voice, and Leonard felt his urge to shut Sheldon up also rising. "It was 15:27 when you came in to Professor Walker's office because of the homicide case and said, 'This bookcase is full of astrophysics books. It's lucky that there exist something helpful for this case, for they are entirely useless otherwise.' Ha, what do you know of this subject, ever heard of a String Theory in your miserable life?"

Sheldon had put on his best 'contemptuous' expression, but Holmes' face showed no change except for the slight raise of his eyebrow. Leonard glanced at John to see how that ripper guy's friend was taking this situation to be, and immediately felt tempted to run away from this place, claiming that he had nothing to do with Sheldon. What John's expression was saying was unfortunately quite clear; _oh, god, not this again._

"You are right, I don't know what String Theory is," Holmes said in a condescending tone that was seriously creepy, "However, I do know that you're from Texas, and that your mother is deeply religious. You object to it, of course, but I have to say that her tendency to cling to religion fanatically is because of you. You're genius enough to have attended university in young age, buy you are also paranoid and obsessive, freaking people out both intentionally and unintentionally. Oh, and honestly, couldn't you have a better archenemy than a movie star? Living a boring life that is spent mostly on games and SF movies, aren't you?"

Personal information poured out of the man's mouth in a fast and accurate pronunciation, as if he were typing down the already well known fact. Leonard was bewildered by this unexpected turn of event, feeling almost like somebody had hit him with hammer. That was when those cold eyes turned toward him.

"And you, are the only link that connects him with the rest of the people. The reason you can bare him, that's because of your mother, isn't it? Oh, really, parents do ruin their children. You are used to other people stepping all over you. Low self-esteem, and you came all the way to this place, in an aeroplane, when you knew what kind of person he was. You sat right next to that picky guy and sorted out all the ingredients he hates. You're used to getting harsh words from others, partly because of your roommate, so I believe my words are not so unbearable either. Oh, it's too easy. It's boring, even to speak my deductions out loud. Let's go, I have no interest in this place."

And with that bombshell thrown, the man disappeared. The drastic flare of the coat seemed like it came right out of the movie. John followed after his friend with a whispered word of 'sorry', and by the look of it, this mind-fucking kind of situation must have been very routinely for John. In the middle of all this mess, one thought grew in Leonard's mind, making him feel like he was in the middle of horrible nightmare.

Oh, god, there is another Sheldon.

* * *

><p>AN: Well, that's it for now. What's your thought on this chapter? Please tell me! Thanks LoveIs This, TheIcecreamGeek, BoomShakalaka, and SeaAndSky! Your kind reviews inspired me greatly!<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: By now, isn't it clear that I don't own either Big Bang Theory or BBC Sherlock?

**You guys shouldn't have met each other**

Oh, god, there is another Sheldon.

Leonard was rapidly losing the faith he had in this world's sanity. Wasn't it enough to have the female version of Sheldon, by the name of Amy? How could this happen, and that guy was even more acerbic than Sheldon! Fortunately (or unfortunately), Leonard didn't get enough time to be shocked properly. Sheldon was tugging his sleeve insistently.

"Leonard, why are you standing still? We should chase after them!"

"…what? Why would we ever do that?"

"To show them who's the boss around here, of course."

That was an utter crap, by anyone's standard, but by the way Sheldon's voice became annoyingly high-pitched, it seemed like his roommate believed in that idea wholeheartedly. It would be a duty as a friend to knock him out of such nonsense. That's why Leonard stood firmly at his place with a frown on his face.

…Or at least, that was what he had intended to do. Sadly, Leonard was currently being helplessly dragged by Sheldon against his will. Sheldon's rage against Sherlock was just that strong. It was a pity that Leonard couldn't show his equally strong annoyance against Sheldon because he lacked in his physical strength. He decided he should just do with yelling in outrage while keeping up with Sheldon's fast pace.

"Haven't you just seen me being ripped into pieces by that guy? And I didn't even antagonize him! I was standing there, all innocent, and because of you, my dignity has been stamped to the ground! And now you want to follow after them? What do you think would happen next, other than more humiliation? Are you just dying to get more insults?"

"No, I am going to have my vengeance."

"And how are you going to do that, you idiot!"

Sheldon, now apparently in his own la-la-land, ignored all Leonard's words. It had to be said, that it was surprisingly easy to get through those mingling people in the Convention. At the first glance of Sheldon, who held pink cotton candy in one hand, and short guy's hand in the other, people opened their ways as if by magic. It was almost akin to Moses' miracle. How convenient. If you ignore the fact that people were staring at that 'Moses' as if he were crazy, and the fact that Leonard himself was also getting that is-he-crazy stare, that is.

The exit door of the Convention came close in no time. Leonard drank in the cold air of London as the door opened. He could see the man's black coat standing out like a tower, even though Holmes was pretty far away. The man raised his hand, and a taxi came out of nowhere, stopping right in front of him as if drawn by a magnet. Leonard concluded that Holmes must have superpower.

Right at that instance, his friend Sheldon also displayed the same power. A taxi, that Leonard could never catch without waiting for hours, slid in, just like that..

They were both damnable bastards.

Sheldon shoved Leonard into the car first, and then rubbed his hands in satisfactory fashion. The shine in his eyes made Leonard uneasy.

"Ooh- I always wanted to say this. Follow after that car!"

"Yup!"

What an unnecessarily cheerful taxi driver.

Fuck my life, Leonard closed his eyes as he rested his head on the window..

* * *

><p>#<p>

"221B Baker Street, please."

Only silence remained in the taxi right now. John Watson was holding his face inside his hands with a pinched expression, and Sherlock Holmes was typing in the phone with his endless enthusiasm. Sometimes he even shook it. It seemed like Wii-fi was giving him a problem.

"Sherlock."

"Why?"

"A taxi is following us from behind."

Sherlock's expression didn't change. He just seemed annoyed at still not working Wii-fi.

"I know. So?"

"-wha… What do you mean, so?" John heaved a deep sigh at Sherlock's careless words. "Don't you think it's a big deal? They followed you all the way from America! I would say that's pretty damn obsessive. And the way you are always planting the seed of hostility everywhere you go is not helping a thing. Do you want to be a goddamn farmer, is that it? Enjoying harvesting the fruit of that animosity?"

Finally giving up on his phone that just wouldn't connect him with his app, Sherlock turned his face with a pout.

"What's your business whether I plant the seed of hostility or not?"

At that moment, John could feel the fire sparking right behind his eyes. The image of the Browning which would be sleeping in his drawer temptingly came to his mind, and his hands started to itch. _I shouldn't kill my flatmat, I shouldn't kill my flatmate, I shouldn't kill- _

"Because I would be with you at that scene of harvesting, idiot!"

* * *

><p>#<p>

**221B**

So here we are, at last.

Seeing those gold letters in front of him, Leonard almost felt faint. There were so many incidents that happened on the way here. In fact, following a car from behind wasn't as easy as all those movies made it seem so. Oddly enough, Holmes' taxi always went underneath the traffic lights when it changed from yellow to red -Leonard decided not to believe that Holmes had intentionally calculated that perfect timing for the sake of his mental health – and there weren't many taxi drivers who would forsake his license and money for the clients' wish. Not even the unnecessarily cheerful ones. So at the second red light, their taxi halted, and Holmes' taxi disappeared far out of their sights. At this point, Leonard thought that Sheldon would surely give up and stop this madness.

"Go to 221B Baker Street, please."

-Right before he said this, that is.

"…What? Where is that place?"

"That would be Sherlock Holmes' flat. I searched on the Internet. He had a website called 'Science of Deduction'. Why are you looking like that, Leonard? You thought that I came all the way to London without even searching for such details? I'm disappointed, I truly am. I thought you already knew what a meticulous person I am."

..It looked like Leonard underestimated his roommate, once again. He shook his head. So, to sum it up, all this lets-follow-that-car thing was just all game to Sheldon, because he already knew the destination the whole time. So, even if they hadn't ran into Sherlock Holmes at the Doctor Who Convention, Sheldon would have eventually barged into 221B Baker Street. It was just that the way here had been made much more dramatic due to the fickle mind of Faith.

"(knock knock knock) Sherlock, (knock knock knock) Sherlock, (knock knock knock) Sherlock."

All in all, there was no way that Leonard could have stopped this from happening in the first place. It did lighten his heart in a great deal.

"(knock knock knock) Sherlock, (knock knock knock) Sherlock, (knock knock knock) Sherlock."

"Sheldon, I don't think that would be of any use. You said so yourself, that you're that Sherlock guy's archenemy. Do you think you yourself would want to open the door to such a person?"

At that remark, Sheldon stopped his hand in mid-air. It was a bit heartwarming, the way a look of contemplation crossed his face. Leonard never saw his friend actually listening to him.

"(knock knock knock) John, (knock knock knock) John, (knock knock knock) John."

….He spoke too fast.

"Sheldon, what are you doing?"

"You said that Sherlock Holmes wouldn't open the door for me because he's my archenemy. However, John isn't my archenemy. And when a person who isn't your archenemy knocks, you should open the door. Therefore, John would open the door for me."

It was such a Sheldonian syllogism. It quite clearly delivered one's intention, but also brought a fist to one's face.

"(knock knock knock) John, (knock knock knock) John, (knock knock knock) John."

"(knock knock knock) John, (knock knock knock) John, (knock knock knock) John."

"(knock knock knock) John, (knock knock knock) John, (knock knock knock) John."

And the door finally opened. The only problem was that John wasn't greeting them as if they weren't archenemies; his blue eyes were blazing with annoyance, and it was a wonder that there was no gun drawn at this point.

"You guys again?"

"Let us in."

"And why should I?"

"Because I've got to have some words with Sherlock Holmes. I can't let him get away with insulting Physics," Sheldon said brashly. John frowned and opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again without a word. At last, he just shook his head and let them in. Contrary to Sheldon who was smirking in victory, Leonard felt like the door to hell had just opened in front of him. Was it just him or did John just muttered something like 'Well, not my fault, I did try to stop you'?

They followed after John, and Sherlock Holmes' flat was surprisingly cozy. The comfy sofa even made Leonard slightly envious because, hey, at least at this house, one would be free to sit wherever one was please to. He decided to forget about the skull on a fireplace.

"Oh, John, honestly, did you really have to bring those idiots here?" said that ripper like man from the kitchen. Eyeballs were rolling around inside the cup next to him, and in front of him laid a chopped up piece of human arm. Leonard wondered for a moment if he was inside the horror movie. He tried blinking his eyes. The reality didn't change.

"Huh-." Leonard simply gave out an exclamation for lack of better things to do. Really, what should you do when you are faced with something like this?

"Oooh-." A weird sound came from Sheldon who was standing next to him. Leonard could see him swaying like he was about to faint.

_Bam!_

Leonard let him fall.

* * *

><p>AN : Yay, the end of chater 3! What do you think would happen next? It would be wonderful if you guys would just throw me some ideas. XD Or anything you thought about while you read this fic, really, because you guys' reviews encourage me greatly! And huge thanks to Luna S. Renaldi , Lydiacatfish for their kind reviews!<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

**You guys shouldn't have met each other**

John Watson had a lot of experience dealing with Sherlock's enemies. Why, he had been kidnapped by his flatmate's very 'archenemy' even before he decided to live with the detective in a moment of madness. So yes, he got used to odd enemies barging into their flat and disturbing peaceful days, but he never had delicate ones that would promptly lose consciousness upon seeing a bit of blood. Whoever heard about intruders who fainted upon seeing the gruesome act of their targets? It was so lame and twisted that John didn't even know what to think.

He glanced at the fainted one's supposed friend to get some idea about his next action. It looked like there would be no help from there, though, seeing that the guy looked truly gleeful at the fallen one's fate.

"Oh, don't worry, he has an awfully thick skull," he even commented cheerfully after feeling John's stare.

John stopped and looked back at Sherlock for a second. He was, of course, completely absolved in his task of disembowelling the arm. At this state, it wouldn't have bothered him if the guy was screaming in agony. It was idiotic of John to even unconsciously seek help from a sociopath.

Realizing that he was the only one who had an iota of human decency here, John heaved a sigh and crouched next to the guy on the floor. It seemed the man indeed possessed one hell of a thick skull, for there was no scratch on him. Except for the fact that he was not conscious he was absolutely fine. John wondered for a second if he had to provide blanket for that man, but waved the thought away as he remembered the rude entrance that had happened few minutes ago. A stiff back and pounding headache would serve the guy right for having been so annoying.

Finished with his doctoring duty, John stood up, and his eyes met with the short – yes, he was shorter than John, thank you very much- guy's. The goofy grin that had been sported on the bespectacled face wilted uncertainly. It seemed like the fact that he was all alone in the 'enemy territory' finally dawned on to the guy. Even his backup, albeit a dubious, trouble-magneting one, was presently out of the world.

"So, what's your business here?" Sherlock's calm yet menacing tone certainly didn't help the matter. Especially when he was holding a bloodied mass.

"Um.. what?" came the eloquent answer.

"State your business, whoever you are, so John wouldn't frown at me when I throw you out."

"Oh, that, um, actually… I just tagged along - reluctantly I tell you! – so I don't have any reason to be here. I don't really know what Sheldon had been thinking to barge in here, though. Not that I know what he's thinking the most of the time," the man shrugged in a helpless fashion. "However, it's reasonable to guess that he just wanted to insult you or something silly like that. Certainly nothing important."

"Then you can show yourself out, and take him with you," Sherlock said while pointing the bloodied knife at the man, making the poor guy step back in terror. Really, someone should have taught some social manners when Sherlock was young. Not looking like a serial killer while holding a conversation would have been a good way to start the lesson.

"I really want to show myself out, I really do," stammered the man. He seemed to have more guts than he looked like. He was white as sheet but was still speaking his mind. "But how am I supposed to get out with Sheldon in that state?"

"By carrying him, of course."

The man blinked. "You are… joking, right?" More blinking, staring nervously at the knife. "Do you honestly think that I can carry him?"

That got Sherlock's attention. And sadly, it was a reasonable question. The Sheldon guy looked more than a head taller than the man, and while the guy was lanky, his dead weight would cause some trouble in all likelihoods.

Sherlock cocked his head slightly, apparently judging his options. John certainly was not a mind reader like he suspected the Holmes brothers to be, but he could follow the detective's line of thought in this circumstance; Sherlock wanted those American blokes out, but he wouldn't carry, nor even touch Sheldon, because that was just beneath him. However Sheldon's friend couldn't do the work, because he was physically lacking. That would leave….

"Oh, no, don't look at me! I'm not carrying that guy out."

"Why not? You were a soldier. You would have carried several fallen comrades of yours, who would definitely have been taller than you."

Seriously, Sherlock knew how to flatter a guy, especially when he was asking a favour to that someone.

"That's not the point. I don't _want_ to do it. Besides, I have a leg problem."

"Haven't I proved to you that it is merely a psychological injury?"

"Exactly my point. Carrying that guy would trigger my 'psychological injury' because I would get upset. Also, I would have you know that my shoulder injury is real. I don't want to overexert my shoulder just so you wouldn't have to do your own dirty work."

Sherlock frowned. It seemed like John won this argument. It made him almost giddy, because winning anything against Sherlock was such a rare occasion.

"Fine," Sherlock heaved a sigh, as if John had made the most ridiculous suggestion and he consented to it just to appease John.

"I tried to be 'social' as you put it," John wondered if definition of 'social' had changed while he didn't notice. Had waving a knife while talking and trying to bodily throw someone out been included as 'the social behaviour'? "But you leave me with no choice. I'm going to wake him up," Sherlock said while stomping toward Sheldon, for all intent looking like he was trying to kick Sheldon into consciousness. Surprisingly, it was a meek voice from the guy that stopped him.

"Um, sorry to intrude, but I think you should put those," the man vaguely gestured toward the bloody mess in the kitchen, "away before you do anything. Chances are, he would just faint as soon as he see those… things. Again. And as amusing as it would be to see Sheldon on loop, falling and waking over and over again, I don't think that's what you want."

Sherlock growled, but amazingly didn't throttle the guy. He just whipped back toward the kitchen and started to put things away in record time. John felt almost betrayed. He had never prompted this kind of reaction in Sherlock. Maybe, he should become less tolerant?

"Wait, Sherlock, what do you think you are doing? That part is only for the food!"

"Yes, but the part of the fridge for my experiment is already full. You said so yourself that compromises are needed between flatmates."

"Of course, and there are also lines not to be crossed. This is one of them. Put the head away, and you will get enough room. Don't give me that look, I know that you are already finished with that particular experiment, and are just keeping 'George' for kicks. Throw it away, I think he will understand, too."

Sherlock pouted, but consented and removed the head from the fridge. John could see the bespectacled guy turning green, and looking like he wanted to puke at the unique seen of a head, an actual HUMAN head, lying on the kitchen floor. The guy sent a frantic stare at John, silently asking, 'Is this for real?'. John wished he could also do that. Panicking at the odd human body parts in the flat, that is. He became too used to these weird shits to be considered sane.

It seemed like the guy finally remembered how matter-of-factly John approached the problem of human head in the fridge, though, because he was giving freaked-out look to John, too. John worried that he might join his friend on the floor.

_Splat!_

The loud noise startled them both, blissfully freeing their minds of the head in the room.

Many things had changed while they were preoccupied in their silent communication. For one, Sheldon was now awake. Dazed and completely wet, coughing and spluttering like a poor, soaked kitten, but awake. Also Sherlock had finished cleaning the kitchen and came toward them without them knowing. By the empty pot dripping water in his hand, it seemed liked Sherlock was the culprit who had just dumped the whole thing on Sheldon without any mercy.

"What? He's awake now. He can go," that was an answer to their incredulous stare.

Unbelievable.

John understood what Sherlock had meant now; Sherlock had been trying to be social.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry for late update. My real life had been suffocating me. Actually, my mid-term exams are not over yet, but what the hell, I'm taking a break for a moment.<p>

Please let me know what you think about this chapter, it would cheer me up in great deal! :)

And to the previous reviewers. Sugary-Sweet-Lemon-Spy, GrimlyFiendish, Anita Simons, Catindahat, theonewhodoesn'tquitefitin, Cause4Rebellion, Aria Dragoncrest, Elliej939, Syrus07, Socken, Willow Battlegale, thank you all!

Wow, eleven reviews, I can't believe it. Thanks for all the lovely reviews! In the middle of all the exams and reports, your reviews brightened my days :D! It made me really happy that you guys liked my story.

Sugary-Sweet-Lemon-Spy, GrimlyFiendish, Socken, Willow Battlegale, thanks for your suggestions for how things are going to be next! Nothing dramatic happened in this chapter, but your suggestions made my imagination go wild! I would have to rein it in and make it into interesting plot XD.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 Sick**

**Work Text:**

"Hey, Captain," said a coy voice behind him.

"Yes?" he said as he turned around in his captain's seat, only to have a lapful of blonde in his arms. His brain short-circuited for a moment. The woman's Starfleet uniform had riden up dangerously high, and he could peak the pale, unblemished thigh wrapped around him. Gulping, he managed to unglue his eyes from the beseeching sight, and stuttered, "Pe..Penny?"

"Oh, are we on the first name basis already, sir?" Penny smirked, locking her slender arms behind his necks. "Well, I was just wondering, do you know that there is nobody here but us?"

He didn't have a brain space left to consider anything else but her, but managed a weak, "yes."

This seemed to satisfy her, despite its lack of eloquence. She caressed his chin, and leant forward, whispering in the most sultry voice he had ever heard, "Oh, Leonard."

He melted into her embrace, and tried to turn his head in order to give her a kiss. She stopped him, putting her hand on his chest. She tapped her hand against him three times and said again, "Leonard."

This time, the voice was deeper. Almost...maley. Thinking that it was the nerve meddling with his mind, he tried to dive in again, but, "Leonard."

He frowned, pulling back. Why is she keep calling his name? And not in a good way, either. It was almost like...

"Leonard!"

He felt a jerking sensation, and blearly, found himself staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling.

"Leonard, open the door, this is emergency!"

Of course, of course. Leonard thumped his head against a pillow and let out a strangled sound. Knowing that his deranged roommate wouldn't just leave him alone, he shouted, "What the hell is it?"

"I demend you, open the door! Why would you lock it anyway?"

Leonard looked down the sheet and figured how much more awkward it would be if he did just that. Would it phase Sheldon and deter him from talking? If only life was that easy.

"Ever thought that you were the reason? If it's urgent, you can damn well talk through the door. Otherwise, go away, I am trying to sleep."

"It's 4:30 p.m. You don't sleep at 4:30 p.m."

"It's called jetlag. I am tired as hell. Speak, or go."

"Fine," came a petulant reply. "Leonard, I am sick."

Great, just what he needed right now. "You were fine when we attended the conference this morning."

"I was not! I told you I didn't feel well, but you didn't listen. You insisted that we go," the reply came with exaggerated sniffling.

"Sheldon, that conference was the whole reason we came here. Besides, I thought it was just your usual whining," Leonard said, rubbing his face ill-temperedly. "Anyway if you are really sick, you have two options; either a) shut up and rest, or b) go to medical professionals. The option c) let's torment Leonard just because I feel like it doesn't exist."

"I don't like it either, but you are my only option. Because a) I can't rest when I am about to drown in my own mucus, and b) I don't know any medical professionals in this country, and I don't trust them anyway. Well, there was Doctor Waston, but I don't exactly-"

"Then go visit him for all I care!" Leonard took deep breath. "Sheldon, I don't want to kill you and get arrested."

There was a pause from the other side. "Thank you. So are you going to come out and look after me so that I won't die?"

"No, I am going to go to sleep, because I frankly need it. Otherwise, I will strangle you with a blanket on the return flight, or possibly sooner."

"That's- "

Leonard grabbed his pillow, but thought otherwise. If he threw it, he would have to pick it up again, and he didn't want to bother. Instead, he chose the bible next to him and hurled it toward the door. Blasphemy be damned, it fell with a satisfying thunk.

Even more blissfully came the silence. If you excused a squeak, and a sulky shuffling sound, that it is. It was enough for Leonard. He closed his eyes and concentrated on recapturing the dream.

* * *

><p>"Sherlock!" John shouted as he burst into the flat.<p>

"Oh, you came," the infuriating detective greeted calmly.

"How could I not after that message?" John wearily approached the kitchen."'You may want to pick out a new kitchen chair', honestly, what-?"

John had thought of various and nefarious ways that would lead to the chair's destruction on the way home. He even braced himself for a melted mess of a chair. What he hadn't expected was a human being tied to the said chair, slumped and facing the wall.

"What," John bit out flatly, mind crashing and refusing to accept the scene in front of him.

"Did you get the new chair?" Sherlock inquired blandly.

"Sherlock," John said faintly, closing his eyes and opening them again slowly in hope that it would all just go away. If only life was that easy. "Sherlock, is there a man tied to our kitchen chair?"

"It's good to hear that your sight is as unfailing as usual, Doctor."

"Sherlock, this isn't funny. Who is- did he attack you?"

"If you count being relentlessly obnoxious as an attack, then yes."

John felt a moment of wonder at the fact that he still hadn't been numbed enough to take everything Sherlock through at him in stride. It was distinctively unpleasant, being pummeled by metaphysical curve balls. "Are you saying," John took a deep breath. "Are you saying you tied up the guy for no better reason than 'he was being annoying'?"

"It is a good enough reason."

"No, no, it really isn't." John couldn't stress this enough.

"Why?"

"You don't even tie Mycroft up!" John blurted out. The moment the word left his mouth, John wanted to slap himself in the face. Jejus, that sounded just wrong.

"Please, like that slippery bastard would stand still long enough to be tussed up."

Alright, it still sounded wrong, but at least his social faux pas has been ignored. So that was good. He geared himself up for righteously indignant speech.

"Sherlock, it's things like this that will lead to future ASBOs to you, and by extension, me. So could we please-"

"But he consented."

What the hell was that even supposed to mean.

Okay, brain, John ordered firmly, stop blanking out on me, and stop using your overactive imagination. "Would you elaborate?" John was proud of how steady his voice sounded.

"He barged into the house, using Mrs. Hudson's sympathy in a bastardly way, if I might add. He said, and I quote, he wouldn't 'move an inch away' unless he got to meet you."

"And?" John prompted, horrible suspicion blooming in his mind.

"I said if he was so sure, he wouldn't mind being tied down properly to keep his promises."

John closed his eyes in despair. The world was filled with crazy, stubborn individuals who didn't know how to back away from clearly insane dare. "And he said yes."

"And he said yes," Sherlock repeated pleasantly.

"Okay," John said. He messaged the bridge of his nose. It wasn't, but hey, consent, that's one advantage in this fucked up situation. Everything counted. "Why did he want to see me so badly?"

"He's sick."

"I gathered that myself when you said he consented."

"No. Well, yes to that, too, but I meant that he's physically ill."

"What?!" The doctor's instinct flared up in full force. "You tied up a patient?"

"Relax, it's just a cold."

"Why, well, it seems kind of redundant to ask at this point, but why didn't he simply go to hospital like anybody else."

"Really, John, you have to ask?" Sherlock raised his eyebrow, that annoying you-should-know-better expression sitting smugly on his face. John crossed his arms. The temptaion to strangle the empty air(or certain someome's neck) was too strong to resist otherwise.

"Surely you still remember him. He followed us from all the way from America, as you had so charmigly put."

John frowned. What could he possibly... The good doctor stopped. "He's _that_ guy?"

It explained surprising amount of things.

John pursed his lips. "Well, there are tons of questions that I want to ask, but let's do this first."

"What?"

"Release your prisoner."

* * *

><p>AN: Hello, long time no see! I honestly forgot about this fic for awhile, but found this piece of draft? ficlet? hidden in the corner of my laptop few days ago. All your lovely, lovely comments made me want to share this with you. Thank you so much. Hope you guys enjoyed this, and have a nice day :)<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Text

**Chapter 6 The Doctor**

Leonard woke up yet again. This time, it was because his cell phone was shrilling like a freaking banshee. He groped his hand around the table.

"Hello?" Leonard said as he automatically answered the phone. He realized what he had just done after a heart-stopping second. Fuck, Sheldon, how could he have forgotten about the Sick Sheldon Protocol? Answering the phone without checking the caller ID was such a rookie mistake to make. He briefly contemplated smashing the phone so he could legitimately claim 'oh my hand slipped and look at this mess that's why I seemingly ignored all your calls'.

"Is this Leonald Hofstader?" An accented voice asked before he could turn his tentative plan into action.

"Uh, yes."

"Your friend Sheldon Cooper is currently in my flat."

The small relief that came to him when he noticed the caller wasn't Sheldon freezed into icy disbelief. Just, what in the world? He closed his eyes, cursing the day he met that socially stunted idiot. "I'm so sorry. He's sick. Please don't call the cops, I'll take him out of your hair right away." He had to say that he was a bit tempted to let Sheldon recuperate inside the cell, in other words, away from him, but knowing the idiot, he would piss off some big time criminal meanwhile and get Leonard killed.

"There is no need to involve the cops," the voice sounded bemused, and a touch, uneasy? Before Leonard could puzzle it over further, the caller said, "but I'm curious, why did you tell him to come to me?"

"I did what?!" Leonald almost shouted. Was Sheldon trying to drag him along to the early visit to the graveyard? "No, why would I? I'm sorry, but I don't even know who you are."

"We've met two days ago. In my flat? I'm Dr. John Watson."

Leonald knew plenty of doctors but he hadn't been in anybody's flat. At that moment, however, several images suddenly flashed through his mind. The ripper like guy, severed head, wet Sheldon, and kind blonde who offered towels and sympathy. "Oh, Doctor John Watson," he repeated weakly.

"Yes. So, why?"

It took few seconds to replace the question. "As I said, I didn't-," Leonard stopped in mid-sentence, dread swiftly filling his heart.

"Yes?"

"I, I was sleeping, jetlag, you know," Leonard explained shakily. "I locked the door so Sheldon couldn't come in, but he just kept bothering me, saying that he was sick. We argued and he said that the only doctor he knew here was you. I sort of said to visit you for all I cared and to leave me alone. I wasn't being serious." Really, how a desire for few more hours of a shut-eye turned into this, he had no idea. "I just wanted to sleep," he added pleadingly.

There was a beat of silence from the other end of the line. "Yeah, I know a thing or two about apologizing for your friend's insane stunts. Don't worry about it. But could you come quickly? Sherlock had a case and left without me."

Because of Sheldon, went unsaid and Leonald was grateful for that. "Yes, of course. Say, where was your flat again?"

"221B Baker street."

"Thanks, I'll go right away."

The scientist sighed as the call ended. So much for enjoying a week in London. He didn't expect much to come considering that he came here with Sheldon, but this, he didn't sign up for this shit. Well, he thought as he let out a put-upon sigh, that poor doctor didn't sign up for this Sheldonian brand of madness at all, but here they were anyway. As a (sadly) experienced party in this, he had a duty to uphold.

So Leonard hopped into a taxi and retrieved Sheldon's whiny ass back to their hotel.

...at least that had been the plan; simple, but effective. The scientist was ashamed to say that he was failing miserably.

He was stumped at the very first stage of the plan. Namely, he couldn't hail a single fucking cab. It had looked so easy when Sheldon and Sherlock had done it. What was the difference between them anyway? Was it the height, couldn't the drivers see him properly or something?

As if the universe was determined to taunt him today, a small young lady about a block away from him successfully called the cab to a halt and went to her merry way. Apparently, height was not the issue here. Was it lack of 'Sh' sound in his name? Would it have been better if his name was, um, Sheonard?

Leonard shuddered. Nope, nope, go away terrible thoughts. He wasn't going there. Time for Plan B, and no time for distutbing musings. The taxi riding was clearly out of the option, but he didn't know where exactly Baker street was. The last time, when they had the ride back to the hotel from that place, he had been distracted by incomprehensibly yelping Sheldon. Trying to placate the heckled driver by giving his best yeah-we-Americans-are-crazy-but-we-do-give-out-very-large-amount-of-tips face was not an wasy feat, either.

What he needed right now was a good Wi-fi, Leonard decided. Then, his smart phone would stop being the sad lump in his pocket and do what it was supposed to do, which was to smartly tell him how to get to the Baker Street.

The Starbucks about 5 minutes away from here had a pretty good reception, he remembered. And come to think of it, he should probably buy a cake or something there as well to thank John for not killing off sickly Sheldon. Regular Sheldon Cooper was a nightmare enough, but the sick one? Words could not describe the level of annoyance that guy could create.

Thus resolved, Leonard began his walk, and kept a fast pace while he was at it. He was unashamed to admit that it was getting dark, and that it made him nervous. Small, narrow streets here and there were doing nothing to put him more at ease. He could even hear scraping sound and choked out shouts, and he was so not going to turn around and find the source of the noise, because, see, that was the beginning of the bad, bad horror movies, and he was smarter than that.

Oh, god, what the hell are you doing?! Leonard asked himself frantically as he legs carried himself to become face to face with the said source.

The guy looked so normal, Leonard thought in a detached horror. His rumpled hair and lumpy suits made him look nothing more than a tired tax accountant. What made him look not so normal was that he had an empty syringe in one hand, and a crumbled pile of human being at his foot.

"Oh, shit," the man paled as he discovered Leonard's presence. My sentiment exactly, the American's mind quipped hilariously, but he couldn't speak, let alone move. He was rooted to the place. He was a fucking witness, and witnesses got silenced. Yet, he couldn't move his damn legs.

"I know who you are," the man said wearily. You do?! Leonard's mind frantically supplied. A slight pause, and then,

"You are the Doctor."

...

...? The Doctor.

The words brought the scientist sharply back to the reality, stopping him from slipping into hysteria. It was that unexpected. He couldn't believe his ears.

Did, did that guy just quoted Doctor Who at him?

"Look," the guy continued as if what he had just say was perfectly normal. He even had the audacity to raise his arms to show that he had no weapon but an empty syringe. "I didn't kill him. It's just a sedative. You just let me walk away from here, and you can take your friend to the hospital all you want."

What friend? Leonard almost asked out loud, but managed to reign himself in. He didn't know what the hell was going on around here, but he knew that this was his chance to get out of here alive. Taking a deep breath, he brought forth the image of the brooding 9th Doctor, and managed to convincingly(hopefully) growl out, "just get the hell out of here."

The man slowly crept forward- Leonard had to stop himself from fainting and giving the game away- and broke into a run as soon as he got past the scientist. As the footsteps faded away, Leonard's legs promtly turned into jelly and buckled under his weight. Heartbeat still thundering loudly, he steadied himself on the ground and just focused on not puking his heart out for awhile.

Jesus Christ, he thought America was supposed to be the dangerous one. For God's sake, what kind of nutjob carried a freaking syringe to attack people?!

As his breathing started to even out, he remembered that there was an unconcious person with him. He hesitated a bit, but gingerly crawled toward him none the less. He hoped that the man was still alive as that madman had claimed to be. He really, really didn't want to be stuck here with a corpse.

The man with a long coat was laid face down on the ground, so it was hard to see if he was still breathing. Haltingly, Leonard flipped the man on his back, thinking that putting his hand under the man's nose would be a sufficient test. It seemed like the madman was telling the truth. He was happy to find out that he wasn't the only one alive out here.

Now that immediate crisis was out of the way, Leonard couldn't help but notice that the guy looked awfully familiar. He narrowed his eyes. Where did he see that long pale face-

The ripper guy, his brain informed him as it clicked in his mind.

Sherlock Holmes.

The flatmate of John Watson.

And just like that, Leonard remembered what he had been doing in the first place. He fumbled his pocket for a phone, and shakily pushed buttons to redial.

"Hello?" The familiar voice greeted him, and it was a such a relief that-

"Does British people actually believe that Doctor Who is real?"

-Leonard blurted out the first thing that came into his mind. The lengthy silence that followed told him how absurd that statement must have sounded.

"Say that again?" Dr. Watson asked patiently, trying so hard to sound understanding it made Leonard even more embarrassed.

"No, no, never mind that. I just, I," the American faltered, rubbing his face dry.

"Hey," the concern grew more obvious. "You alright?"

A hysterical laugh tore out of his mouth without any warning. "No, yes, no? I don't know." He really didn't, because he wasn't hurt but he had the biggest scare in his life, and fucking London, this city was crazy, and Sheldon that bastard, it was all because of- He swallowed. Get a grip, Leonard, he told himself sternly.

"Doctor Watson," he continued in a more controlled tone. "I think I found your friend."

* * *

><p>AN:<p>

And yes, this story was supposed to be cracky. I don't know what just happened.

Anyway the boys would finally get to interact with each other without someone being unconscious X) Thanks always for your kind reviews!


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